BRIGHTON FRONT
Here is clean outlook, here doth no lie come,
No littleness abide,
Here freedom yet retains her ancient home,
Beauty here issues freshly from the foam,
And the Soul’s wings are wide.
O ever-breathing Breast,
Re-inspire me!
O Energy unresting, give me rest!
Succour me, O strong Sea!
Hark . . . hark . . . ! The billow rises,
The billow breaks,
The sea calls,
And my heart awakes!
O my heart!
We, beach’d so high on this world’s huckster strand,
Might we at last in truth the mooring slip,
And out upon wide water like a ship
Launch forth and leave the land,—
Flee the staled air, the loud and empty life,
The little lights, with the great Light of Heaven
Pretentiously at strife!
Scarce would we then be fain of any goal,
For any haven sigh!
Content, awhile, ’twixt heaven and earth to lie
Unscreen’d, and fenceless fly
Unholden winds before.
While the great voice of sheer Infinity,
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